The People in the Story Part II
by ProfeJMarie
Summary: A continuation of ff author jsq's one-shots and "drabbles" using StoryPeople stories for inspiration. Any character or set of characters may appear in any given installment.
1. This Is My Legacy

My dear friend Jen (jsq here on this site, jsq79 on Twitter) tweeted out recently that though she did not foresee writing anymore #BONES stories, she thought someone should continue on her People in the Story series. Little did she know that I would jump at this opportunity so quickly. Her original set of OS's have been in my favorites list. It's a lovely opportunity and I appreciate the gracious challenge she has given me. Gracious to share her idea, challenge to live up to her great set of installments.

The idea is to use StoryPeople(dot)com's site of teeny ficlets as inspiration for our #BONES characters. Since I am not normally a deep repository of ideas, this kind of system works beautifully for me.

I'm not much for disclaimers because I figure that anything posted at this site is obviously not mine or any other participant's, but I will say this: the inspirational ficlets are simply that, inspiration. The original stories belong to the contributing authors of StoryPeople's website. Also, you should read jsq's original series before this one.

**This Is My Legacy**

_From StoryPeople(dot)com:_

"_He kept a piece of algae behind his ear to remind him of his roots. A million years ago every place was a little place by the sea, he would say & my mind would go blank & I would swim through the day without a care in the world & it all seemed so familiar that I knew I would go back someday to my own little place by the sea."_

He knew it was vain to want to be on the big screen. He was even kind of ashamed to admit that he wanted it, especially considering he had spent so much energy all those years ago in hiding his connections to the Cantilever Group, chief donors of the Jeffersonian. The way Cam and Sweets had responded to him when he blurted out how it wasn't fair that the other actors playing the scientists didn't get interviewed for Dr. Brennan's movie told him he was probably overreacting.

It didn't change how he felt, though.

So when Angela didn't laugh at him, and when they saw that even Cam had had her moment of fame so many years ago, he felt better. And when they ended up getting that cameo in the movie trailer? He thought he couldn't be happier.

Then one day he read an article about a woman who had been living out of her car because she had entrusted all her money in a Hollywood agent who had sworn she would get all the best auditions. Instead, the "agent" ran off with her money and all the would-be actor could say was how ridiculous she felt, telling all of her family and friends back home that she was going to "make it big" or die trying. How could she have known that she really _could_ die trying with barely enough money for food?

The next day he analyzed particulate evidence that directly helped the FBI apprehend a murderer.

The next afternoon he watched the eggs of his ring-necked snake (_diadophis punctatus)_ hatch.

On Saturday morning, he and Michael Vincent explored at a nearby park, venturing into the woods. Michael Vincent toddled ahead, and Hodgins had to trot to catch up to him, making sure he didn't take too big of a spill. Angie would scold him if "her" little boy came back all scratched up.

"Oooh, BUH!"

"That's right, MV. _Bug_. Isn't it great?" Hodgins crouched next to him, and Michael Vincent giggled gleefully. "Do you know what kind of bug it is? It's a _dermaptera_. Do you know what is so special about _dermaptera_? It's one of the few bugs where the mama still takes care of her babies after they hatch."

"Mama!"

Talk of "Mama" ended the excursion. Michael Vincent double backed before Hodgins could convince him otherwise, but he smiled as he listened to his son chant "Mama mama mama" all the way.

What had he told Angela all those weeks ago? That he wanted their son knowing they were in some hyped up movie? She had told him no one could do what he did, and he agreed, but he was wrong. Others might fill his shoes one day; maybe it would be his son. Maybe not. She was right about him in another way, though. No one could love his son like he did. What he did was more important than explosions in a movie (although, the explosions _were_ pretty awesome). He helped catch murderers. He worked to understand the natural world – the parts many others choose to ignore. That was what he wanted his son to see.

That was his legacy.


	2. Toothpick Fence

_**From StoryPeople . com:**_

_Toothpick Fence: He built fences of whole boxes of toothpicks because he didn't have enough money for redwood. I know it's small, he said, but I don't want everybody just thinking they can walk right in & some day, it'll be bigger. Fences take practice for everyone._

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

Booth listened to the whirr of the power drill for a moment as he made sure the screwdriver bit was in securely. He looked over to see Brennan with a scowl on her face.

"Now what?" he asked her in exasperation. "Look, we've been over this a million times. It's just for the stairs. And only until she can take them all by herself, okay?"

They'd argued about the idea of installing baby gates. Brennan didn't like the idea of keeping Christine "out" of anything, and Booth insisted that they weren't keeping Christine away from _them_, but away from danger. It was only for the top and bottom of the stairs. It was so easy for a baby to fall. He couldn't fathom why just these two gates were still such an issue.

He'd already agreed that they would rearrange cabinets so that they wouldn't necessarily have to secure all the lower ones, allowing Christine free access to explore. Cleaning agents and other risky items had been moved to upper cabinets, leaving pots, pans, Tupperware, and some of the well-packaged food items as fair game. The kitchen frequently looked as though some burglar had broken in and was searching for that secret safe, but he didn't really mind that. Well, most days. He couldn't deny that it was pretty cute to see her sitting inside a cabinet, giggling about her new fort.

Stairs, though, that was different.

"Is it a jail thing? Like remembering your dad or Russ behind bars?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Your parents. They had a gate to their room and you woke up in the middle of the night after a bad dream and couldn't get in."

"What? No. Of course not. Why are you trying to guess? I already told you; I don't like limiting Christine."

"Nope," Booth shook his head and revved the drill again. "I don't buy it."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I hate it when you do that."

"Buzz the drill?" He smirked and revved it again.

"No. That's just your childishness. I hate when you get all cocky about why you _think_ I believe a certain thing or act a certain way."

"'Cause I'm right," he winked at her. "That's what really bugs you, and God, I love it."

Brennan released a noise of fed-up frustration and stomped away. Booth followed, caught up to her, and pulled her around again to him laughing.

Brennan glared at him. "Wipe that stupid grin off of your face, and I might give in."

Booth promptly obeyed.

"I hate the gates because I can't open them."

"What?"

"Angela and Hodgins have these gates all over the place at their place, and I can't open them. It is so frustrating and ridiculous. My fingers get pinched. I pull the levers in just the right way, but it's not quite enough. I hate the idea that the gate is going to keep _me_ out. Why do they make them so hard?"

It was all he could do to keep himself from laughing long and hard. He had, in fact, learned some lessons over the years. "So, all that crap about 'children shouldn't have artificial barriers' was just a smokescreen?"

"No. It's not," she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the word, "_crap_. All of those reasons are true."

"Just not the _real_ one. That's okay. I get it. You're right. The gates can be hard to open, but they gotta be a little bit so that they work, right?"

Brennan conceded reluctantly.

Booth led her over to the gate. "Except Angela and Hodgins hired some fancy installer for theirs, and you? You've got me, and you know what I do?"

She gave a little smile. "You do it all yourself so that it gets done right and works the way you want it to."

"That's right. So this is what we're going to do. We're going to change the way the gate latches so that it'll still be safe, but doesn't pinch your fingers. Yeah?"

"Yes. Thank you. And Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I rev the drill?"

Booth saw her wicked smile and thought they might need to install more gates.


	3. Old Ways

_**From :**_

_Old Ways: Except for the running naked through the forest, there's not a lot I miss._

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

Hank and Brennan sipped their iced tea contentedly on the patio in front of a table full of dominoes, while occasionally glancing up at Christine's giggles that floated their way along the gentle breeze as Booth and Parker helped her go down the slide on the play set. Booth would help Christine up the steps to the top, where Parker waited to help her get ready to slide down again into Booth's waiting arms.

"Those boys make quite a good team," Hank said appreciatively.

Brennan smiled at Hank's use of the term "boys" when he was also referring to Booth. While she often saw Booth's youthful side in many situations, she couldn't deny that his children brought out his own inner child like nothing else. He may crawl into bed complaining of aches and pains, but never did so with regret.

"Parker is remarkably like his father, and Christine laughs in the same way they do."

Hank clucked in disagreement. "I don't think so. Sweetheart, she definitely has your laugh, deep and full, but I think I know what you're saying. She laughs easily, and her dad has that trademark Booth charm that brings it out of her." He gave her a knowing wink.

Brennan shook her head and chuckled. She wasn't sure about Booth's dad, but with all of Hank's "crocheting", it was enough to imagine that Booth may very well have inherited all of his charm from his grandfather. She laid down her double five domino and followed it up with a subsequent match, eyeing him with some undisguised triumph after noting his grimace at her move. She was down to four dominoes while he still had six.

"When are you gonna make an honest man out of my Seeley?"

"He's already as honest as they come without my help, Hank."

"I think you know what I'm asking."

Brennan raised her eyes to his, relieved to find that his were neither reproachful nor accusatory. They were merely curious. "Nothing has changed. I still don't believe in marriage."

Now his eyes showed doubt. "Temperance, you can give Seeley that line, and he'll take it like a gentleman. At least I hope he does; if not, then I haven't raised him right. But I know you. You may not think I do," he said before she could object, and he emphasized, "but I do. What's the real reason you don't want to marry my boy?"

Her heart tightened at the way he added in "my boy", as though she were really finding fault with Booth, and that made her pause. Did Hank, who seemed to know how to read her like his grandson did, deserve to hear the real reason when Booth himself didn't know?

"I love Booth," she told him earnestly.

Hank put a reassuring hand over hers and gave her a gentle smile. "You think I don't know that? It's not just my grandson who's as happy as I've ever seen him. The glow that surrounds you when I see you with him and your daughter is one of the most beautiful things to these old eyes of mine. I just want to know what you're afraid of."

She took the plunge. "He's old-fashioned. I don't just mean that he's old-fashioned for wanting to get married. So far, we've been able to compromise a great deal by deciding to approach our lives together as a fifty-fifty partnership. If we were to marry, his sense of duty will compel him to believe that this should change, that he should have to be the primary provider for us. For Booth, being the primary provider means more than supporting us financially, it means trying to be all things for us at all times. It's not fair that just a piece of paper could weigh him down with more responsibility than actually exists."

"You don't think he still feels all of that responsibility? Or that he doesn't welcome it?"

"Yes, he does. However, in our current arrangement he seems to better recognize that I will always hold equal responsibility."

Hank leaned back in thoughtful appraisal. "Ah. Leverage. Smart girl."

Brennan furrowed her eyebrows at this assessment. "I am not sure I like that term. That is not quite an accurate reflection of what I was attempting to convey."

"That's because you're also a good woman, Temperance. Maybe you'd like 'anchorage' better."

Brennan glanced at Hank in surprise. "Yes. I like that term."

"You didn't think an old codger like me could still impress the smart lady with vocabulary, is that right?" His eyes twinkled, eliciting the return smile from Brennan. "See? I still got it."

"Yes, you do," she conceded, but then she scowled as she reached for a domino from the draw pile. "But I still don't believe in marriage."

Hank played his last domino and peered at Brennan over the top rim of his glasses. "I know."


	4. Broken Down

_**From storypeopledotcom:**_

_This is a machine that's supposed to make people good & true & kind & the funny thing is that it works best when it's completely broken down so everyone has to stop what they're doing & get together & figure out how to fix it._

_**Broken Down**_

"Clark. If you walk out that door right now I will tell Dr. B about that Moroccan artifact in her office."

Clark turned on his heel at Hodgins's threat. "Oh, that's what this is, now?"

Hodgins couldn't hide the desperation in his voice. "C'mon, man. She's gonna kill me."

With a sigh, Clark dropped his bag and took off his tie. "Fine, but if it gets worse, I'm not taking any blame. I told you we didn't need it for the experiment."

"Angela, do you have – oh, Dr. Hodgins, Dr. Edison." Brennan stopped in surprise at seeing the other two. "Where's Angela?"

"She picked up MV and went home."

Brennan ventured further in, discovering the problem. "How did that happen?" she gestured, then realization hit her. She cocked her head in irritation. "The experiment?"

"Yes," Hodgins replied sheepishly. "In my defense though, it worked, didn't it?"

"It didn't prove anything, Dr. Hodgins."

"I suppose it proved what _wasn't _the murder weapon," Clark offered.

"Which we already knew. If Angela isn't here, then I'm going home. I highly recommend you fix that before you leave tonight."

"Wait! Dr. B – you can't leave! You have to help me."

"No, I don't. Good night."

_Oh no way,_ thought Clark. _If I'm staying, she is too._ "If you leave," he sputtered out quickly, "I'll tell Agent Booth about last Wednesday night."

Brennan paused, and Hodgins's eyes widened. "Last Wednesday night?" he squeaked out. "What happened last Wednesday night?"

"Never mind, Hodgins." She looked over at Clark coolly and returned. "I will help."

"Help with what?" Cam asked as she walked in. "Oh God," she said, her expression one of shock. "Angela is going to kill you."

"_Could everyone please stop saying that?_"

"I'm just saying," Cam tsked, "you might be going straight to that couch when you go home."

"Not if you help me."

She held her hands up, palms out. "Oh no. I'm meeting Paul in 30 minutes and you know how hard it is for us to match our schedules. Sorry guys, I'm out."

"Does Paul know about what you told me at the Founding Fathers last month?"

Cam gave Brennan a calculating look and replied slowly, "No, Dr. Brennan, he does not."

"I believe this will go faster if you help us."

Hodgins couldn't believe his ears. He had to stifle a laugh. Cam looked at Brennan with a new appreciation.

"Fine. Hodgins, what in the world are you doing with that?"

"It goes here, doesn't it?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Clark said in exasperation. "It can't possibly go there. Try this."

A voice outside the office called out, "Bones! Where are you?"

"She's in here," Cam shouted. "Angela's office."

Booth sauntered in. "What's going on? Do you guys have something new for the case?" His eyes caught the scene, causing him to chuckle and give a low whistle. "Hodgins, you are so screwed."

Hodgins scowled at him. "We're gonna fix it, okay?"

Booth shook his head. "If you say so. C'mon, Bones. Let's go."

"Not yet. I need to help Hodgins."

"What? No, you don't. He's got Clark and Cam. That's plenty."

"I believe you could be an asset to this process."

"Flattery, Bones? I'm too tired to fall for that tonight. Look, I'll just meet you at home –"

"Oh no you don't, Booth," Cam jumped in. "You walk out that door and I call up Sweets about that—"

"_Camille_," Booth interrupted.

"Seeley." She held his gaze. "You know I'll do it."

He pursed his lips tightly, then tore off his jacket off in frustration and rolled up his sleeves. "Fine."

"Okay, so this goes there."

"That's now how it was," Clark argued.

"Then what do you suggest?" Hodgins snapped back.

"Clearly this needs to twist—"

"Hold that still while I put this part right –"

"No, that's not right."

"That has to go on the bottom."

"Right! Then this goes here."

"Grab that –"

"If I let go of this right now it's all going to fall."

"Wait, I got it."

"Yes, that's right. Put that on there."

"Almost, just move that a little –"

"And then –"

"TA DA!"

They all backed away and cheered, sharing high fives and smiles.

Hodgins released a deep sigh. "It's good, right?"

"Yes, perfect – right guys?" Booth looked at everyone meaningfully.

"Right," Cam agreed right away. "She'll never notice."

Brennan looked skeptical, but then shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, it's quite satisfactory."

"Thanks guys," Hodgins said in relief.

Booth grabbed his jacket and circled an arm around Brennan's waist to lead her out. She whispered, "Angela's going to figure it out right away."

"I know," Booth said out of the side of his mouth, "let's go before he realizes that, too."

"What does Cam have on you?"

"What does Clark have on you?"

"How did you…?" She eyed him carefully. "Drinks first?"

"Best idea I've heard all day."


	5. Enough Time

_**From storypeopledotcom:**_

_Everything changed the day she figured out there was exactly enough time for the important things in her life._

_**Enough Time**_

Not enough time.

They're gone. All of them. They left her.

-x-

Too much time.

Too many different places. No one wants her. No one has come back.

-x-

Time enough.

She is good at what she does. It is fulfilling.

-x-

The time in-between.

She meets him. He challenges her. He makes her feel. She is uncertain.

-x-

Too much time.

He wants more. She can't give it to him.

-x-

Not enough time.

He's leaving. She is too.

-x-

Too much time.

He's found love. It isn't with her.

-x-

Time enough.

He's angry and sad. He's not ready. She will wait.

-x-

Not enough time.

He was too young. She feels helpless.

-x-

Enough time.

He is there for her. She holds on. He holds on. They hold on to each other and don't let go.

-x-

Enough time.

She has a daughter. She has him. She has what they have built together professionally and personally. It is all she needs.


	6. Butter and Sugar

_**A/N: **I think Booth in the black t-shirt in the latest S8 premiere promo might have gotten my attention…_

_**From storypeopledotcom:**_

_I like butter & sugar & being alive a whole lot & today I'm kind of sad because with all the latest studies I figured out I'm going to have to choose._

_**Butter and Sugar**_

"All of that butter, fat, and sugar is going to kill you sooner than a gunshot wound," Brennan remarked to Booth wryly as she watched him finish the last of his garlic cheese bread and take a sip of his extra large chocolate shake.

"I will die a happy man, then. A little sugar does a body good."

"What you have been eating does not constitute 'a little'."

"I cook very nicely balanced meals for us most nights, don't I? Besides, I'm in excellent shape."

"A healthy diet would benefit your daily physical regimen, also."

"So, you're saying that if I eat less sugary and fatty food, I should then be able to reduce my daily workout?"

"Scaling back is certainly one option, but I also meant that…" her response faded as she saw Booth take off his shirt. Her mind backtracked as she considered the result of his daily workout.

Booth grabbed a carrot stick and his shake and went to go sit on the couch. He put his feet up and relaxed back into the cushion. "Tell me, Bones. Which is the better snack for me right now: carrots?" He popped the stick into his mouth and crunched it loudly before swallowing. "Or a chocolate shake?" He pulled the straw from the thick swirl of ice cream in his glass and paused mid-way to his mouth. The ice cream from the straw dripped onto his chest, and he watched Brennan's eyes follow the path of the sugar-laced treat make its way down his left pectoral muscle toward his abdomen.

He grinned appreciatively as she involuntarily licked her lips while his own muscles instinctually contracted at the cold contact. The slurp of ice cream from his straw pulled her attention back to his face.

"Maybe you could bring me a napkin?"

She smiled, kicked off her shoes, and walked slowly over to him. "Maybe you don't have to cut out _all_ of the butter and sugar."


	7. Spider Princess

_Thanks to tantemary for the prompt._

_**From storypeopledotcom:**_

_If I was a spider princess, she said, I would spin webs the color of sky & catch drops of sunlight to give to children who watch too much TV & then everyone would remember to come outside to play. If I was a spider princess, she said, things would be different._

_**Spider Princess**_

"I'm gonna get you!" Booth's knees were not quite what he wanted them to be for a crawling chase with Christine, but the giggles were worth it. Man, she was fast, he couldn't help thinking as he finally got her cornered. She pulled herself up at the table. "Got you!" She shrieked and pattered her feet up and down in unrestrained excitement. He scooped her into his hands and let her fly in them as he rolled to his back on the floor.

He heard the door open and lowered Christine to sit on his stomach. "I think I hear your mommy!" She bounced up and down on him excitedly before rolling off of him to greet her.

"You two looked to have been quite busy in the short time I was gone," Brennan noted, observing the living room disarray while picking up Christine and rubbing noses with her.

He smiled. "She woke up from her nap full of energy. I'll take care of it later. Promise."

Her expression clearly conveyed doubt, but Game 4 of the ALCS was about to start, so whether or not she believed him, it certainly wouldn't do any good to argue with him about it now.

He'd invited Brennan to watch with him, but she'd merely told him she'd rather watch him get all riled upon on the hockey rink than in front of the TV screen. He pocketed that information for later and thanked her for bringing home beer and chips for him.

"Enjoy your stickball game," she said, and he saw the glint in her eye that proved she knew she had surprised him with the street comparison. He grinned appreciatively, gave her and Christine a kiss each, and headed down to watch what he hoped would be the game that would clinch the title for the Tigers.

The game did not disappoint. By the end of the third inning, Detroit was up by three runs.

"Booth?" Brennan called down to him. "We'll be outside."

"What? Yeah, yeah… okay." He gave a distracted wave as he focused on the screen. He really wanted to watch Scherzer throw another strike. He was no big fan of the Tigers, but to see them sweep the Yankees in the ALCS pennant? There was no way he was missing that.

But then a commercial came on for "Pure Michigan" – one of those visitor ads. A montage of families on the slopes, on the lake, and on amusement park rides traveled across the screen. He watched a little boy race across an expanse of green, probably some state park or something, and thought of Parker. He loved hanging out with him in those wide expanses, throwing the football, trying to fly a kite, or just racing. Then he thought of Christine's giggles as he chased her earlier. Brennan jokingly noted the mess, but all Booth saw was happiness.

He turned off the TV, jogged back upstairs and out the door. Brennan was pulling Christine back up to her feet, and then gave her a finger to hold onto as she toddled a bit unsteadily at first, but later with increased determination. Booth watched Brennan's hair lift with the gentle breeze and listened to her low tones of encouragement to Christine. As though they felt his gaze, they both looked up to him.

"Dada!"

It was no final out pop fly catch, but rather so much more as Christine released her grip on her mother's finger and took two steps on her own before falling forward and continuing her crawl.

"Did you see that?" Booth asked, joy filling him as he hurried to close the distance between him and his daughter.

"I did!" Brennan laughed with him.

"Her first steps!" He picked up Christine and pulled Brennan into him as they laughed and praised their daughter for her accomplishment. They put her down to try to get her to do it again and again before finally letting her crawl off to chase down a butterfly on her own.

Brennan leaned into Booth and asked who won the game. His answer came in the form of one arm dropping around her waist and the other hand caressing her face and neck as he kissed her. _I did,_ he thought to himself.


	8. Real Work

_**From storypeople dot com:**_

_Every day they jumped up ready to make the future, but at night, laying around and laughing and talking was when the real work got done._

_**Real Work**_

In the years that followed her 15th birthday, she fell into the belief that days of idleness served no purpose except to taunt her with what she did not have. It did not take long for the memory of the idyll in her past to transform into a fairytale that only the Brothers Grimm could write – the original ones where underlying dark elements subtly kept the path to happy endings off-kilter.

Not long after she started really working with him, he put in "Hot Blooded" and for a moment, she dropped her veneer and danced with him before the bomb signaled her new odyssey down the fairytale road so filled with rocks, she sometimes doubted that the happy ending she secretly hoped for actually existed.

Until it came.

They laughed. They argued. They made-up. They loved each other in all the ways two people could.

He'd said, "Help your mom to be happy, because if she's alone, she's gonna forget."

Lying on the floor, she heard echoes of Booth telling her to fight, to hang on. If she couldn't, she desperately hoped he wouldn't be the one to forget his real work.


End file.
